


White Lie

by shuturfudge



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Hanahaki Disease, Hurt Lance (Voltron), M/M, Sad Lance (Voltron), flowers bloom on your skin when the person you love, not really - Freeform, stops loving you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 01:26:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17255033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuturfudge/pseuds/shuturfudge
Summary: Unrequited love wasn’t the worst possible outcome. The tattoos didn’t help though.The first flower to bloom was a tall lilac plant, as nimble and delicate as the feelings that came with it. Everything shattered with the realization that something was wrong. The delicate design wrapped itself around Lance’s rib cages, the Purple Hyacinths entirely too lovely to hate.Please forgive me, they meant.Lance didn’t hate them, maybe resented them a bit, was terrified that they would continue to grow, or worse something more rotten would take root.Because he had never experienced this level of cosmic irony. There wasn’t a salve or lotion in his skincare routine that could ease this new fixture, tattooed to his body. For once in his life, Lance truly fell with no one to catch him.





	White Lie

Unrequited love wasn’t the worst possible outcome. The tattoos didn’t help though.

The first flower to bloom was a tall lilac plant, as nimble and delicate as the feelings that came with it. Everything shattered with the realization that something was wrong. The delicate design wrapped itself around Lance’s rib cages, the Purple Hyacinths entirely too lovely to hate.

Please forgive me, they meant.

Lance didn’t hate them, maybe resented them a bit, was terrified that they would continue to grow, or worse something more rotten would take root.

Because he had never experienced this level of cosmic irony. There wasn’t a salve or lotion in his skincare routine that could ease this new fixture, tattooed to his body. For once in his life, Lance truly fell with no one to catch him.

Broken hearted was a good word, one he would’ve ranted and screamed about if he hadn’t known the backlash. It wouldn’t be good for the team. He would just have to savor the last tastes of him - before the truth came out. 

Flowers didn’t bloom for anyone. The buds of love and betrayal etched themselves into the skin of one sided relationships, where one member had fallen for someone else. They were a symbol of giving your heart to someone incapable of caring for it, someone to inspire the tears to water a garden.

He didn’t regret falling in love with Keith. Nor did he wish Keith pain in his new love.

He was just a bit broken hearted. But he kept that to himself.

-

It took him a week to fall apart. Not the type he was used to, the dramatic, “Hunk I think I’m dying!”, type of pain, but the hidden type that festered like a wound. The personification of the phrase, “I’m okay, really.”, delivered with a tight lipped smile. Empty eyes.

The flowers hadn’t grown more, leading Lance to believe his love might be safe, it was just a little bunch of flora. It was nothing to be upset about. Not until tiny drops of white anemone started to fester on his hip bones as he left training.

Forsaken.

Matt was walking alongside him, spilling every detail of his recent mission. His hand waved rampantly, painting a picture of an Earth like planet, entirely pink. He was smiling from ear to ear, proud of his recent accomplishments. “-and it’s a possibility - maybe - that I could have, PERHAPS, met a guy.”, Matt whispered, cheeks blooming red.

Lance only hummed, distracted by his own problems. The only thing to pull him out of his cloudy mindset was Matt’s next words, “I just want something like you and Keith, you know? I know it sounds stupid, but what’s it like to have that type of relationship with someone?”

His hip bones burned. Heat on heat on heat tingling the blank spaces, he could once claim as his own. Now they were entirely Keith’s - Keith’s Anemones on the Lance’s skin forsaking him to remember how his love story came to an end. He hummed.

“I don’t I’ve ever loved someone like him, someone who you know will burn you, but the allure of the flame is too beautiful to stand back from. I didn’t think it through when I fell in love, there was no conversation, only an inevitability. But I love him. And I think - I think I always will.”, Lance bit the inside of his cheek, ‘- even when he stops loving me.”, he whispered. 

“That’s rather bleak.”, Matt huffs, unsure of the inspiration behind Lance’s word choice. Matt isn’t sure how to respond without hurting Lance further, so he says a quick goodbye and abandons him to work in the lab. 

Lance catches sight of his favorite head of midnight hair, and calls out a brief hello to Keith.

He doesn’t hear him.

But Keith does hear Shiro, walking confidently in the opposite direction. It’s always been funny to Lance that being loud does not equivalate as heard, he can scream all night never to be noticed now.

At the garrison Hunk would wrap him up in hugs and whispers words his mama always told him to calm down, “Lance, it’s okay, we’re okay.”, and Pidge would show him she cared by leaning on him a little extra when his eyes didn’t crinkle when he smiles. The simplicity of a friend was becoming a luxurious trait. Something Lance didn’t deserve.

“Shiro,”, Keith cried out, following the taller man down the hallway.

“Hey Keith, what’s up?”, he smiled.

“I wanted to train so I booked us the garrison room together.”, he smirked.

“Oh, I heard Matt and Lance were just in there, didn’t wanna get all sweaty with your boyfriend?”, he teased.

“Lance doesn’t mind.”

Well that was a new one to Lance. The concept of Keith leaving Lance for Shiro was interesting. A part of him told him to be happy, because of course Keith was too good for Lance. He always had been.

But Shiro was on such a different level than Lance, that Keith’s future couldn’t have been a bad thing due to the shift in cosmic plans. He was sure Keith would be so much happier with Shiro. Because Shiro was all the things Lance was not.

He was serious, yet playful in all the right moments, unlike Lance’s disregard for timing. His body was one of adonis, perfectly sculpted from the ground up. Not that the time Lance put into his training didn’t reward him with cut muscles, but they were nothing compared to Shiro’s. And he was nice. A kind man - capable of everything Lance was not.

Keith was fire that burned. And Lance was ice that froze.

And they were incompatible, a match only destined to steam into obscurity.

-

They fought that night. Keith had came back to the room late and snappy.

When Lance asked him what was wrong he was left with words undeserved. Each insecurity pulled out under a microscope. Why don’t you just grow up? What’s wrong with you? Too clingy.

When the tansys kissed his wrists, brushstrokes of yellow and green, Lance wasn’t surprised.

I declare war on you.

It didn’t mean that when Keith’s head hit the pillow, Lance hadn’t held him like someone worth loving and caring for.

Lance was on a timer until Keith realized his mistake.

Fall in love once, shame on you.

Fall in love twice, shame on me.

The phrase wrapped it’s way around his subconscious.

It was Lance’s fault Keith would leave.

He only felt remorse for the actions incapable of thawing their love.  
-

Matt caught him 2 nights later crying, as dying honeysuckles licked at his forearms.

The bond of love.

Whether it be flames or thorns cutting into his very being, Keith sure had control over what little left Lance could claim on his skin. He still loved him. Dreamed of him. Leaned into his gentle touch. The tips of his finger pads on his cheekbones sang symphonies and the amethyst that danced in the corner of his eyes when he belted laughter like an off key trumpet, left his warm. 

He felt fuzzy feelings for Keith. Keith and his flowers owned him.

He had taken to wearing long sleeves in case anyone noticed. 

Matt sat next to him wordlessly as he cried.

-

He caught their lingering stares in missions.

The brief brush of hands in the dining halls.

A soft smile.

A snicker and a tug, “Come closer, I dare you.”

Inching closer and closer to each there, always orbiting each other’s systems like satellites. 

Lance wasn’t sure how flower would grow in a world cold and dark. Where was Lance’s sunlight? The only think he felt capable of growing were sickly green weeds, insecure in their botanical classification. 

Their cheeks were the shade of the red poppies sprouting from his calves.

Remembrance.

“Remembrance of what, Keith? What about this could you possibly want to remember?”, he thought.

Dying Violets the shade of his eyes hung from his chest, the concept of loyalty a sick joke. But Lance wasn’t angry. Not when the white clovers that were supposed to mean, Never forget who you love, were no longer for him, merely rooting themselves in his biceps. Nor when the yellow roses screaming infidelity, made their way across all of his back, thorns making their home in his caramel lively hood. 

The angry peonies called to Lance as they bit into the meat of his neck, just as the sweetpeas that belonged to Shiro, choked the rest of it. Pleasure, they sighed.

And Lance dared to smile through it all, because Keith was happy. Keith fell asleep in his arms with a soft smile, probably dreaming of the new man he loved, yet comfortable in Lance’s arms.

Just a little longer. 

Bluebells touched his triceps fiercely. Aloe climbed his toes. Heliotropes humming into his thighs.

All for Shiro.

The only part of him left were his hands, head, and heart. 

When marigolds of grief found their way to his center, he knew that Keith wouldn’t be in arms by the morning.

Shiro’s arms maybe.

But not Lance’s.

Never again.

-

The next morning there was a team meeting.

The turtleneck he was wearing didn’t cover the sorrowful willow tree, growing behind his ears, but he brushed his hair to insure his privacy.

Was it even privacy?

He wasn’t necessarily ashamed, more so uncomfortable with people knowing he wasn’t good enough.

The single strand of devoted violet twisting around his pinky was enough of a problem.

It was still beautiful. Just like everything Keith created or caused.

-

“Team, we were originally going to talk to you all individually, but Keith decided that the change effected everyone, so the conversation should include everyone.”, while there was an edge of assurity to Shiro’s tone, Keith was shaking, in dire need of consolation.

Before this could get out of hand, Lance interrupted, making sure to maintain the eye contact between Keith and himself, “It’s okay Keith, I just wanted you to be happy, and I hope you are. I’m going to excuse myself but I really am happy that you know what you need. Even if that doesn’t include me.”, he took a fragile step back. 

With a nod he made it back to their room. His room now.

He stripped down to take a shower. To forget maybe. To claim a patch of his skin for himself possibly. 

In the mirror reflection a new set of ink stained his face, spilling golds and sunset kissed pinks and violent reds, onto its canvas.

Wild Roses.

Pain and Pleasure.

 

You’re not wrong, Keith.


End file.
